John Hackett was straining every muscle to reach the bag in safety. But, as an object whizzed past his head and a dull thud sounded, he realized that his effort had been in vain.
In spite of a feeling of intense disappointment, he slapped Tom Clifton on the shoulder.
"Good work, old boy; good work—a corking double play!"
Tom's eyes sparkled. Volleys of cheers for Clifton rang pleasantly in his ears.
"Thanks, Hackett," he replied. "I guess we can play a little when we try."
Sam Manning on third, not discouraged by Fuller's failure to score, launched forward as Kirk Talbot singled. The followers of Nat Wingate went wild with glee. The first run for the Stars was marked down on the score-board, and there were two on bases.
"Jack Frost" seemed to lose some of his control, while the high tension was evidently affecting several of the other players. Right Fielder Alf Boggs fumbled Jeff Wilber's hot liner. Once again the score-keeper made an entry.
"And still two on bases," groaned Joe Rodgers.
"The school team is going to be defeated, sir," Mr. Rupert Barry was saying to President Hopkins. "I've no doubt they will be white-washed."
"Dear me—white-washed!" exclaimed Professor Ivins, somewhat startled. He looked around, as though half expecting to see colored men with pails and brushes. "White-washed!" he repeated. "Do you mean the fence?"